You were born in a world. A world where humans can pick up buildings. Or even non humans living among us from afar. Where you have the option of being a Superhero, and saving the lives of innocents everyday. Or becoming a Super Villain. Where you can be known to strike fear into the hearts of anyone. You may even be none of the above, and identify as a Anti-Hero. A mix between the two.
So when you chose one of these roles, what troubles may see you in the future? What might you face? Time to find out.
{You do not have to be a DC/Marval Character in order to join. And you can be a OC. No plot is in mind and we can just simply go on along or discuss ideas we may have with each other before starting if you wish}
So when you chose one of these roles, what troubles may see you in the future? What might you face? Time to find out.
{You do not have to be a DC/Marval Character in order to join. And you can be a OC. No plot is in mind and we can just simply go on along or discuss ideas we may have with each other before starting if you wish}
((I'll start the roleplay with a starter if you guys want))
Damian Wayne, now costumed as Robin The Boy Wonder, was out on a daily patrol. He was standing on one of Gotham City's high building. So far, not too much action had happened. No high crime at the moment it seemed. He kept a hand to his yellow belt on the side. Ready incase he would have to jump in on anything that may happen. You never know when you live in Gotham City, the infamous city of crime. A magnet for criminals and villains alike to join on in. And when there's Villains, there's also Heroes. But still, the night was silent. And the young boy was honestly beginning to become restless and bored.
Damian Wayne, now costumed as Robin The Boy Wonder, was out on a daily patrol. He was standing on one of Gotham City's high building. So far, not too much action had happened. No high crime at the moment it seemed. He kept a hand to his yellow belt on the side. Ready incase he would have to jump in on anything that may happen. You never know when you live in Gotham City, the infamous city of crime. A magnet for criminals and villains alike to join on in. And when there's Villains, there's also Heroes. But still, the night was silent. And the young boy was honestly beginning to become restless and bored.
Lisa Coral. Age 11 when she disappeared. Vanished from her own birthday party in the park. The parents were investigated. A few suspects questioned. No charges filed. No other leads. She simply went missing and was unofficially presumed dead. Then again, nothing is ever what it seems in Gotham. In a city ruled by madness, nothing is ever... simple.
She turned up. Alive. That was a week ago. Three years and some change from the day she disappeared. Alive, though far from well. Dressed in an old style girls dress, She had walked into the Second Bank of Gotham with a bomb strapped around her neck. Video surveillance showed her arrival. She'd walked through the main entrance amidst a lunch rush of business men and women. The footage showed her wandering the lobby, seemingly lost and confused, for several minutes before any of the staff thought to approached her.
The teller who interacted with her had described her as distant... out of it mentally. She had been confused by her own name, alternating between "Lisa" and "Alice". She was rambling incoherently about rabbits and cats and mice and tea. The bank staff, unsure what to do, were about to call for help when she was described as possessing a distinct moment of clarity.
Voice full of fear, "My name is Lis- Alice. Alice. Must be Alice... Forget the the cakes, but bring the bread . If I fail I just loose my head... Alice... Must not be late for tea... Or the things in store for me...." The teller described the girl's smile at the last comment as 'The single most unnerving thing she had ever seen.'
"Loaves sliced paper thin... Put them in the biscuit tin. Green like retched mold, but trades better same as gold." It wasn't until she opened a cookie tin, revealing a crumpled and bloody hundred dollar note that the staff understood.
She was given what she could carry, roughly $250k. She would then leave, only to disappear once more among the crowd on the busy sidewalk outside.
That was over week ago. A fifteen minute appearance by a girl that was still lost. Probably missing forever.
But tonight... Tonight the girl in the blue dress and white pinafore had other places to do. Things to see. People to be... Or something like that.
She stood on the curb, arguing with herself. Her placement was deliberate, a shadowy enough area that happened to be near an ATM. The camera would pick her up.
"I don't want too!" Defiant at first, her tone and body language shifted to terror. Her hand rising to grab her collar. "No! Please! I'll behave. I'll...." She was staring into the road now, at nothing. Her hand went slack, as she walked forward between two parked cars. "Wha- what are you doing here? Hey! Come back!" She darted into the road.
The police cruiser had to swerve sharply to miss her. It bounced off a line of cars across from her. The driver tried to correct, over compensated. The car swung to the opposite side of the road, fish tailing. It caught another parked car just right, and rolled. It slid on the roof for a bit, filling the air with the sound of grinding metal. It came to a halt with the driver side door pinned against another vehicle.
She stared at the cop car. Confused by it. Her attention drifted back to what she was chasing, only to realize it gone... Gaze travels slowly back to the police. Her eyes full of malice as she started walking up toward it.
In the police cruiser, the driver was dazed, hovering just on the edge of consciousness. He was responding to an anonymous call about some unconscious criminal elements. It was impressive how much police work in Gotham was actually cleaning up after vigilantes. He was shaken awake by the officer in the seat next to him. The world was upside down, and the adrenaline made it hard to focus.
He was stuck. The seatbelt which had likely saved him was now a temporary restraint. His eyes closed again. He was shaken once more. His eyes opened. The girl. He missed her, right? He looked out of the broken windows trying to see her.
"Did you see her?"
"Who?"
"The girl. The girl in the blue dress..." He started patting himself down, trying to find his knife... It wasn't where he normally kept it... Probably shifted in the crash.
"She ran out from the cars."
"What did she look like?"
"She looked like...." He tried to remember... Being upside wasn't helping his headache... Or the haze he felt from the crash. "She... She looked li- Shit! She was the one from the bank! The bomb collar girl." Why couldn't he find his knife? Just had to cut himself down..."what was she doing...? We need... We..." His brain was trying to tell him something. Something important. He closed his eyes trying to focus.
He heard the click. It sounded like a knife locking open. His eyes snapped open, finally realizing. Remembering. He wasn't assigned a partner.
He turned his head slowly to look, not knowing who, or even what he might see. His hand was creeping toward his holster. There was no officer. Just the girl. His uniform's hat, too large for her, sat at an angle atop her head. In one hand she held the radio hand set. In the other, he could make out his knife; the blade was blackened, but the cutting edge still glinting in the street light. His hand found his holster, the gun missing.
She spoke. "...I'm sorry. I am." He could hear it in her voice, see it in her face. She was. She held down transmit. "Officer down. Officer down. Require assistance." She glanced out the window, neck craning to see the street signs. "1500 block. 38th Street." She put the hand set down, wedging the transmit button. "It's so they can hear you, officer." For the briefest of moments he found hope, that she was only helping him. That this was just some... misunderstanding.
She looked back at him, her attention leaving the radio. The smile on her face. The distant look in her sunken eyes.
Hope left him.
The second to last thing dispatch, or anyone listening to the police frequency, heard was a faint whisper. The haunting words of a lost girl. "...we're all mad here." Then the screaming began.
She turned up. Alive. That was a week ago. Three years and some change from the day she disappeared. Alive, though far from well. Dressed in an old style girls dress, She had walked into the Second Bank of Gotham with a bomb strapped around her neck. Video surveillance showed her arrival. She'd walked through the main entrance amidst a lunch rush of business men and women. The footage showed her wandering the lobby, seemingly lost and confused, for several minutes before any of the staff thought to approached her.
The teller who interacted with her had described her as distant... out of it mentally. She had been confused by her own name, alternating between "Lisa" and "Alice". She was rambling incoherently about rabbits and cats and mice and tea. The bank staff, unsure what to do, were about to call for help when she was described as possessing a distinct moment of clarity.
Voice full of fear, "My name is Lis- Alice. Alice. Must be Alice... Forget the the cakes, but bring the bread . If I fail I just loose my head... Alice... Must not be late for tea... Or the things in store for me...." The teller described the girl's smile at the last comment as 'The single most unnerving thing she had ever seen.'
"Loaves sliced paper thin... Put them in the biscuit tin. Green like retched mold, but trades better same as gold." It wasn't until she opened a cookie tin, revealing a crumpled and bloody hundred dollar note that the staff understood.
She was given what she could carry, roughly $250k. She would then leave, only to disappear once more among the crowd on the busy sidewalk outside.
That was over week ago. A fifteen minute appearance by a girl that was still lost. Probably missing forever.
But tonight... Tonight the girl in the blue dress and white pinafore had other places to do. Things to see. People to be... Or something like that.
She stood on the curb, arguing with herself. Her placement was deliberate, a shadowy enough area that happened to be near an ATM. The camera would pick her up.
"I don't want too!" Defiant at first, her tone and body language shifted to terror. Her hand rising to grab her collar. "No! Please! I'll behave. I'll...." She was staring into the road now, at nothing. Her hand went slack, as she walked forward between two parked cars. "Wha- what are you doing here? Hey! Come back!" She darted into the road.
The police cruiser had to swerve sharply to miss her. It bounced off a line of cars across from her. The driver tried to correct, over compensated. The car swung to the opposite side of the road, fish tailing. It caught another parked car just right, and rolled. It slid on the roof for a bit, filling the air with the sound of grinding metal. It came to a halt with the driver side door pinned against another vehicle.
She stared at the cop car. Confused by it. Her attention drifted back to what she was chasing, only to realize it gone... Gaze travels slowly back to the police. Her eyes full of malice as she started walking up toward it.
In the police cruiser, the driver was dazed, hovering just on the edge of consciousness. He was responding to an anonymous call about some unconscious criminal elements. It was impressive how much police work in Gotham was actually cleaning up after vigilantes. He was shaken awake by the officer in the seat next to him. The world was upside down, and the adrenaline made it hard to focus.
He was stuck. The seatbelt which had likely saved him was now a temporary restraint. His eyes closed again. He was shaken once more. His eyes opened. The girl. He missed her, right? He looked out of the broken windows trying to see her.
"Did you see her?"
"Who?"
"The girl. The girl in the blue dress..." He started patting himself down, trying to find his knife... It wasn't where he normally kept it... Probably shifted in the crash.
"She ran out from the cars."
"What did she look like?"
"She looked like...." He tried to remember... Being upside wasn't helping his headache... Or the haze he felt from the crash. "She... She looked li- Shit! She was the one from the bank! The bomb collar girl." Why couldn't he find his knife? Just had to cut himself down..."what was she doing...? We need... We..." His brain was trying to tell him something. Something important. He closed his eyes trying to focus.
He heard the click. It sounded like a knife locking open. His eyes snapped open, finally realizing. Remembering. He wasn't assigned a partner.
He turned his head slowly to look, not knowing who, or even what he might see. His hand was creeping toward his holster. There was no officer. Just the girl. His uniform's hat, too large for her, sat at an angle atop her head. In one hand she held the radio hand set. In the other, he could make out his knife; the blade was blackened, but the cutting edge still glinting in the street light. His hand found his holster, the gun missing.
She spoke. "...I'm sorry. I am." He could hear it in her voice, see it in her face. She was. She held down transmit. "Officer down. Officer down. Require assistance." She glanced out the window, neck craning to see the street signs. "1500 block. 38th Street." She put the hand set down, wedging the transmit button. "It's so they can hear you, officer." For the briefest of moments he found hope, that she was only helping him. That this was just some... misunderstanding.
She looked back at him, her attention leaving the radio. The smile on her face. The distant look in her sunken eyes.
Hope left him.
The second to last thing dispatch, or anyone listening to the police frequency, heard was a faint whisper. The haunting words of a lost girl. "...we're all mad here." Then the screaming began.
Harley Quinn out for a bank robbery with joker haveing a grand time
Natalia Grace was an Anti-Hero. She was neither Super Hero, nor Super Villian. She simply worked for whoever payed the most. She had no superpower persay, just an uncanny ability to hack. She was pretty good with most technological and electronic devices, however she specialised on computers and all kinds of security systems. She was perhaps the best hacker in Gotham City. Not only could she hack most anything, she could also make security systems that were nearly impossible to hack, for anyone but herself that is. Not only did she have her hacking abilities, but she was also very athletic and flexible, making it easy for her to get away quickly if necessary.
"Ahaha, jackpot! Load the crates into the vans."
Kuroko Kenshin lifted the heavy wooden crate with relative ease and hoisted it onto his shoulders. He made sure to give himself a fairly wide field of vision, as to not bump into one of the hundred thugs and goons that were also lifting boxes. Carefully weaving his way through the traffic of men, he walked to the closest open van and let the crate fall into the trunk.
"Kenny! I know you can load the boxes faster, so do it or I swear to god I'll rip your balls off and feed 'em to your girlfriend over there!" A stout man screamed from the catwalks above. Kenshin frowned and looked over at his "girlfriend" that the man spoke of. His partner, Mimi, was struggling to load a crate into one of the vans. But Kenshin knew his partner better than most people. He could tell that she was only pretending to struggle, but couldn't fathom her reasons for doing such a thing. No one really could, at least when it came to Mimi and her agendas. He knew she was easily capable of carrying every crate in this warehouse without a sliver of strain.
"Earth to Kenny! What, did you go brain-dead from looking at Saggy Maggie?!" the man continued to shout. Kenshin directed his attention up to the catwalks, where the chubby man who looked to be in his late forties continued to rant at him, though he had already tuned it out. The man dropped a used-up cigarette from above, and it barely missed Kenshin by a hair's breath.
"Ah, damn it! Unless you'd like to know firsthand what it feels like to be on the receiving end of a firing squad, I suggest you stop your emo moping and GET BACK TO WORK!" the man bellowed. Kenshin had to actually stop himself from going up there and slitting the man's throat. With a couple of deep breaths, he managed to calm down and remember the plan that he and Mimi had devised.
It's almost time... he thought to himself as he went and lifted another crate onto his shoulders. He glanced at Mimi once again, waiting for her signal.
Kuroko Kenshin lifted the heavy wooden crate with relative ease and hoisted it onto his shoulders. He made sure to give himself a fairly wide field of vision, as to not bump into one of the hundred thugs and goons that were also lifting boxes. Carefully weaving his way through the traffic of men, he walked to the closest open van and let the crate fall into the trunk.
"Kenny! I know you can load the boxes faster, so do it or I swear to god I'll rip your balls off and feed 'em to your girlfriend over there!" A stout man screamed from the catwalks above. Kenshin frowned and looked over at his "girlfriend" that the man spoke of. His partner, Mimi, was struggling to load a crate into one of the vans. But Kenshin knew his partner better than most people. He could tell that she was only pretending to struggle, but couldn't fathom her reasons for doing such a thing. No one really could, at least when it came to Mimi and her agendas. He knew she was easily capable of carrying every crate in this warehouse without a sliver of strain.
"Earth to Kenny! What, did you go brain-dead from looking at Saggy Maggie?!" the man continued to shout. Kenshin directed his attention up to the catwalks, where the chubby man who looked to be in his late forties continued to rant at him, though he had already tuned it out. The man dropped a used-up cigarette from above, and it barely missed Kenshin by a hair's breath.
"Ah, damn it! Unless you'd like to know firsthand what it feels like to be on the receiving end of a firing squad, I suggest you stop your emo moping and GET BACK TO WORK!" the man bellowed. Kenshin had to actually stop himself from going up there and slitting the man's throat. With a couple of deep breaths, he managed to calm down and remember the plan that he and Mimi had devised.
It's almost time... he thought to himself as he went and lifted another crate onto his shoulders. He glanced at Mimi once again, waiting for her signal.
Saggy Maggie? Mimi clenched her fist around the crate, cracking it, and gritted her teeth, that nickname bringing on memories of her school life. That asshole was going to die a slow and painful death, and she intended to enjoy every second of it. She placed the crate she was holding down and placed a hand on a part of the string she had weaved around the entire warehouse, which she had wrapped one end of it around her pinkie. Just from touching the string, she could see the locations of everyone, as well as hear the individual conversations they were having. All one hundred idiots present and accounted for.
It was time to strike. She wanted to send a message to her partner to get ready, but remembered that he didn't speak string. Fortunately, he seemed to be trying to catch her eye, in which she returned a wink.
Mimi sat down on the crate, attached a string to it, and hoisted it up, making sure she was high enough to be in clear view of everyone. "Ladies and idiots, may I have your attention please?"
The men carrying the crates all looked up at her, pausing in their tasks.
"What in the hell do you think you're doing you little bitch?!" the boss yelled from the catwalks. "Get back to work before I rip your silky milkies off and use 'em as whoopie cushions at my daughter's birthday party!"
Mimi cleared her throat, signifying her ignoring that comment. "Listen up, you asshats! If you all want to live, I suggest you drop the crates and go home. Anyone who stays will die painfully. I'll be making sure of that."
"Who does this broad think she is...?" he mumbled to himself. "I've heard enough of your bullshit. Kenny, get this bitch out of my face." he ordered.
Mimi grinned down at Kenshin. "Come on Kenny. The boss gave you a order." She gave him a nod. It was go time.
It was time to strike. She wanted to send a message to her partner to get ready, but remembered that he didn't speak string. Fortunately, he seemed to be trying to catch her eye, in which she returned a wink.
Mimi sat down on the crate, attached a string to it, and hoisted it up, making sure she was high enough to be in clear view of everyone. "Ladies and idiots, may I have your attention please?"
The men carrying the crates all looked up at her, pausing in their tasks.
"What in the hell do you think you're doing you little bitch?!" the boss yelled from the catwalks. "Get back to work before I rip your silky milkies off and use 'em as whoopie cushions at my daughter's birthday party!"
Mimi cleared her throat, signifying her ignoring that comment. "Listen up, you asshats! If you all want to live, I suggest you drop the crates and go home. Anyone who stays will die painfully. I'll be making sure of that."
"Who does this broad think she is...?" he mumbled to himself. "I've heard enough of your bullshit. Kenny, get this bitch out of my face." he ordered.
Mimi grinned down at Kenshin. "Come on Kenny. The boss gave you a order." She gave him a nod. It was go time.
Kenshin shook with anger. What in the world was she doing?! This wasn't the plan! They were supposed to strike while they had the element of surprise, not announce themselves like they weren't currently outnumbered one hundred to two. He supposed that it was just like Mimi to go against what they'd agreed on, though. She always did whatever she wanted, so it was no surprise they had ended up in this situation.
He just wished she could have given him a better warning. Ah well, he supposed he had no choice in the matter at this point. Showtime.
He crouched down and sprung towards the nearest goon, cracking him over the head with the heavy crate he was carrying. The impact killed the man upon contact, and he fell dead to the ground. Before anyone else could react, however, Kenshin chucked the crate towards the second-nearest goon. It hit him square in the chest, knocking him back towards his comrades.
"What in the-?! Get him, you idiots!" the boss yelled angrily.
The other thugs sprung into action at the prospect of a new threat in the form of Kenshin. They all charged him with various weapons, but Kenshin had no trouble dodging and deflecting their strikes. After drawing his katana and parrying two different blows from thugs that wielded a metal pipe and a baseball bat, he sprung into action. He began slicing through men as if they were paper. He made short work of every goon that approached him to attack, but even so, it seemed as if there was no end to them.
He nodded to Mimi, knowing that he needed her assistance to take everyone down before someone outside heard the commotion. Or worse, a so-called hero showed up.
He just wished she could have given him a better warning. Ah well, he supposed he had no choice in the matter at this point. Showtime.
He crouched down and sprung towards the nearest goon, cracking him over the head with the heavy crate he was carrying. The impact killed the man upon contact, and he fell dead to the ground. Before anyone else could react, however, Kenshin chucked the crate towards the second-nearest goon. It hit him square in the chest, knocking him back towards his comrades.
"What in the-?! Get him, you idiots!" the boss yelled angrily.
The other thugs sprung into action at the prospect of a new threat in the form of Kenshin. They all charged him with various weapons, but Kenshin had no trouble dodging and deflecting their strikes. After drawing his katana and parrying two different blows from thugs that wielded a metal pipe and a baseball bat, he sprung into action. He began slicing through men as if they were paper. He made short work of every goon that approached him to attack, but even so, it seemed as if there was no end to them.
He nodded to Mimi, knowing that he needed her assistance to take everyone down before someone outside heard the commotion. Or worse, a so-called hero showed up.
"Hey, careful with those crates Kenshin!" Mimi ordered as she flexed her pinkie, tugging on the string attached to it. She could tell how many were left by the commotion, their movements and their breathing. "No way, you took out like thirty guys already! And you want my help? Alright, alright, fine."
Mimi performed a few seemingly unnecessary handsigns which actually turned out to be her way of wrapping string around her hands. "Okay, here goes. I'll try not to hit you Kenshin, but no promises~"
Mimi began to move her fingers quickly in different ways, and every few seconds some goons would get sliced suddenly, dropping to the ground.
A group were converging on Kenshin, so Mimi moved her fingers again and lifted them upside down and left them hanging.
"How's it hanging boys?" she taunted, clearly amused. It felt so great to be powerful. Though this power came at a great cost, it was still worth it if she never felt helpless ever again. Now, Mimi was the one in control and she intended to abuse that power because no one else could stop her.
Mimi blinked away her thoughts for the moment and looked back at the scene below her. "Hey Kenshin, you go after the boss and I'll handle the rest of these guys."
Mimi performed a few seemingly unnecessary handsigns which actually turned out to be her way of wrapping string around her hands. "Okay, here goes. I'll try not to hit you Kenshin, but no promises~"
Mimi began to move her fingers quickly in different ways, and every few seconds some goons would get sliced suddenly, dropping to the ground.
A group were converging on Kenshin, so Mimi moved her fingers again and lifted them upside down and left them hanging.
"How's it hanging boys?" she taunted, clearly amused. It felt so great to be powerful. Though this power came at a great cost, it was still worth it if she never felt helpless ever again. Now, Mimi was the one in control and she intended to abuse that power because no one else could stop her.
Mimi blinked away her thoughts for the moment and looked back at the scene below her. "Hey Kenshin, you go after the boss and I'll handle the rest of these guys."
Kenshin nodded "Agreed". He looked up at the catwalk, then at Mimi's ventriloquist act. Quickly planning his next moves, he moved upwards in a blur, landing directly on one of the strings. Using the momentum from the landing, he launched himself up onto the catwalks. The boss yelped in surprise and assumed a fighting stance.
"I should have known you two shit-sniffers would betray me. What are you planning to do with my cargo?!" he asked angrily. Kenshin didn't respond, and instead began slowly walking towards him while agonizingly scraping his katana against the metal floor of the catwalks. The screeching caused the boss to flinch and step back as Kenshin approached.
They continued moving along the catwalks until they ended up walking outside (since the catwalks lead outside for a bit, but then just stop a ways out with no guard rail at the end), where the boss suddenly found himself staring down at a twenty-meter fall.
"L-Listen..." started the boss as Kenshin continued his approach. "Let's just t-talk about this, huh Kenny? I'll...I'll give you half of the profit we make from this job! No, seventy-five percent! Eh? How about i-Ah!" the boss screamed out in pain as Kenshin drove his sword through his abdomen.
"Keep your money, you worm. You and your little gang are finished. Oh, and one more thing..." Kenshin lifted his foot and pressed it against the boss' stomach, ready to kick him off of his sword.
"Don't ever call me Kenny."
"You basta-" He launched his foot forward, throwing the boss off of his sword, as well as the catwalk. After watching the boss go splat on the ground below, Kenshin sheathed his sword and walked back into the warehouse to see that Mimi had already finished the last of the goons.
"Now we can finally get started." he said as he dropped from the catwalks. He walked over to an unloaded crate and ripped off it's top, revealing a variety of different guns inside.
"Perfect. There are enough guns in this warehouse to outfit an army." he noted. He picked up a pistol and aimed it at a random direction, closing one eye to look down the iron sights.
"If we're going to do this, we'll need codenames. I'll be Phantom. What about you Mimi?"
"I should have known you two shit-sniffers would betray me. What are you planning to do with my cargo?!" he asked angrily. Kenshin didn't respond, and instead began slowly walking towards him while agonizingly scraping his katana against the metal floor of the catwalks. The screeching caused the boss to flinch and step back as Kenshin approached.
They continued moving along the catwalks until they ended up walking outside (since the catwalks lead outside for a bit, but then just stop a ways out with no guard rail at the end), where the boss suddenly found himself staring down at a twenty-meter fall.
"L-Listen..." started the boss as Kenshin continued his approach. "Let's just t-talk about this, huh Kenny? I'll...I'll give you half of the profit we make from this job! No, seventy-five percent! Eh? How about i-Ah!" the boss screamed out in pain as Kenshin drove his sword through his abdomen.
"Keep your money, you worm. You and your little gang are finished. Oh, and one more thing..." Kenshin lifted his foot and pressed it against the boss' stomach, ready to kick him off of his sword.
"Don't ever call me Kenny."
"You basta-" He launched his foot forward, throwing the boss off of his sword, as well as the catwalk. After watching the boss go splat on the ground below, Kenshin sheathed his sword and walked back into the warehouse to see that Mimi had already finished the last of the goons.
"Now we can finally get started." he said as he dropped from the catwalks. He walked over to an unloaded crate and ripped off it's top, revealing a variety of different guns inside.
"Perfect. There are enough guns in this warehouse to outfit an army." he noted. He picked up a pistol and aimed it at a random direction, closing one eye to look down the iron sights.
"If we're going to do this, we'll need codenames. I'll be Phantom. What about you Mimi?"
Mimi lowered the crate she was sitting on back down to the ground. "Codenames? I'm not sure what I would like to be called. I mean..." Mimi looked at the string stretched out around the warehouse, then at the string wrapped around her pinkie, one end of the entire length, "...some people call me 'spinstress' but I think that's more of a title.
"How about Weaver? It means the same thing, but its more suited to be a name."
"How about Weaver? It means the same thing, but its more suited to be a name."
The screaming died out... The trapped officer falling into unconsciousness. Once it did, frantic communications filled the air as various officers called in to respond. The radio clicked off.
This meant, as an unintended benefit, for those pursuing interests elsewhere in town, no one would be responding to a disturbance. Especially not possible murders at a warehouse owned and operated by a local crime boss... That was the type of call that waited till morning.
The girl in her blue dress and pinafore dragged herself out of the overturned car. She rose to her knees, and reached back into the car, pulling the policeman's hat out.
She stood, and looked around... Her hand, still clutching the bloody knife, quickly rose to press the back of her hand to her temple. Her eyes closed, face wincing, as she stayed that way for a second.
Her eyes open. And she looks around, confused. She looks at the knife, as if seeing it for the first time, and spins, looking at the car. Then the hat.
"W-What? What did I... You... We...?"
She stumbled back away from the car, back into the street. Lights we clicking on in the bedrooms of the buildings lining the street. Someone was yelling. Many someones. Spun in a slow circle."
"No. No. No... "
She stopped. Frozen. Her eyes fixed on the vacant space in front of the car. She stepped towards it.
"You! You did this. Always late! He swerved because of you!"
She moved to the front of the car. The dash cam of the flipped cruiser would pick up her legs.
"Hey! Wait! Come back... Don't... Don't... Leave me here... Alone..."
The bloody knife clattered to the ground at her feet. Her gaze turned up slowly, looking at the street sign.
"Where ever... Here is...." 83rd street. She had reversed the numbers. Help for the officer would not be coming. She had sent them almost 50 blocks the wrong way. Help would not be coming. Not anytime soon.
Her mouth went slack... Her eyes unified, and glazed over. The lights were on, but nobody was home. Her head spasms, and she shakes it off.
Lisa...Alice... Who ever she was now, turned before walking into the shadows of the nearby alley... The police hat still dangling from her hand as she walked.
This meant, as an unintended benefit, for those pursuing interests elsewhere in town, no one would be responding to a disturbance. Especially not possible murders at a warehouse owned and operated by a local crime boss... That was the type of call that waited till morning.
The girl in her blue dress and pinafore dragged herself out of the overturned car. She rose to her knees, and reached back into the car, pulling the policeman's hat out.
She stood, and looked around... Her hand, still clutching the bloody knife, quickly rose to press the back of her hand to her temple. Her eyes closed, face wincing, as she stayed that way for a second.
Her eyes open. And she looks around, confused. She looks at the knife, as if seeing it for the first time, and spins, looking at the car. Then the hat.
"W-What? What did I... You... We...?"
She stumbled back away from the car, back into the street. Lights we clicking on in the bedrooms of the buildings lining the street. Someone was yelling. Many someones. Spun in a slow circle."
"No. No. No... "
She stopped. Frozen. Her eyes fixed on the vacant space in front of the car. She stepped towards it.
"You! You did this. Always late! He swerved because of you!"
She moved to the front of the car. The dash cam of the flipped cruiser would pick up her legs.
"Hey! Wait! Come back... Don't... Don't... Leave me here... Alone..."
The bloody knife clattered to the ground at her feet. Her gaze turned up slowly, looking at the street sign.
"Where ever... Here is...." 83rd street. She had reversed the numbers. Help for the officer would not be coming. She had sent them almost 50 blocks the wrong way. Help would not be coming. Not anytime soon.
Her mouth went slack... Her eyes unified, and glazed over. The lights were on, but nobody was home. Her head spasms, and she shakes it off.
Lisa...Alice... Who ever she was now, turned before walking into the shadows of the nearby alley... The police hat still dangling from her hand as she walked.
"Whatever works." Phantom replied as he checked the pistol's cartridge. Seeing that it was loaded, he loaded the clip back and set the pistol down into the crate before placing the lid back on top.
"Now then, Weaver, down to business." He said as he sat on the crate he had just closed. "Let's go over the plan one more time. Our first order of business will be to dispose of all of these corpses before they begin to rot. That shouldn't take very long if you use your ability. Once we're finished, we'll make contact with all of the boss' former connections and establish relations. Using these guns as bargaining chips, we'll enlist their help." He paused for a moment before continuing.
"We'll have them preform odd jobs around town, such as robbing banks, gas stations, convenience stores, et cetera, with the goal of gaining attention from any heroes that would interfere. While they are distracting the heroes, we'll-"
Phantom was cut off by the sudden blaring of a radio coming from one of the corpses. He stood up and approached it, turning the man over to reveal that his shirt, as well as much of his chest, had been sliced open earlier by his katana. But he noticed another object that had been destroyed in the fight.
"A wire. So this man was an undercover police officer." he deduced. But that was not where the sound was coming from. Reaching into the man's pocket, he pulled out a short handheld radio that was silently chattering. Phantom turned up the volume of the radio just in time to hear the quiet words of a young girl.
"...we're all mad here." In the next instant, he heard the agonized screams of a man over the radio.
"Hmm...interesting. It sounds like someone beat us to the punch. This, whatever it is, will certainly gain the attention of any listening heroes." He waited patiently for the screaming to die down, and when it did, he pocketed the device. "Now then, it would be safe to assume that the situation has changed. It appears that there is another force in Gotham that it causing disturbances. Perhaps we should investigate and see if we can't get them to help us as well?" he offered.
"Now then, Weaver, down to business." He said as he sat on the crate he had just closed. "Let's go over the plan one more time. Our first order of business will be to dispose of all of these corpses before they begin to rot. That shouldn't take very long if you use your ability. Once we're finished, we'll make contact with all of the boss' former connections and establish relations. Using these guns as bargaining chips, we'll enlist their help." He paused for a moment before continuing.
"We'll have them preform odd jobs around town, such as robbing banks, gas stations, convenience stores, et cetera, with the goal of gaining attention from any heroes that would interfere. While they are distracting the heroes, we'll-"
Phantom was cut off by the sudden blaring of a radio coming from one of the corpses. He stood up and approached it, turning the man over to reveal that his shirt, as well as much of his chest, had been sliced open earlier by his katana. But he noticed another object that had been destroyed in the fight.
"A wire. So this man was an undercover police officer." he deduced. But that was not where the sound was coming from. Reaching into the man's pocket, he pulled out a short handheld radio that was silently chattering. Phantom turned up the volume of the radio just in time to hear the quiet words of a young girl.
"...we're all mad here." In the next instant, he heard the agonized screams of a man over the radio.
"Hmm...interesting. It sounds like someone beat us to the punch. This, whatever it is, will certainly gain the attention of any listening heroes." He waited patiently for the screaming to die down, and when it did, he pocketed the device. "Now then, it would be safe to assume that the situation has changed. It appears that there is another force in Gotham that it causing disturbances. Perhaps we should investigate and see if we can't get them to help us as well?" he offered.
Weaver giggled. "Just what I was thinking. Give me a minute to take out the trash and then I'll work on locating that person."
With that, she began to gather all the bodies together with her string and dragged them all outside. Dumping them all into the ocean, she started singing. 🎶 "Taking out the trash...at night! Taking out the trash...at night!" 🎶
When Weaver was done, she acended onto the warehouse rooftop and spun a string the weaved itself all around the city. She quieted her mind and focused on the sounds she heard through it.
With that, she began to gather all the bodies together with her string and dragged them all outside. Dumping them all into the ocean, she started singing. 🎶 "Taking out the trash...at night! Taking out the trash...at night!" 🎶
When Weaver was done, she acended onto the warehouse rooftop and spun a string the weaved itself all around the city. She quieted her mind and focused on the sounds she heard through it.
Godrick stood over yet another body whose skin was pale and icy yet it felt as smooth as marble and soft as silk, its eyes closed delecately and a strange blissful look upon its face....once again another child who could not bear to learn all of the knowledge that he and his four fellow young masters had tried to teach him.
"Helga...marvelous work you've done here...he looked at if he'd died peacefully in his sleep and smells pleasantly of peppermint"
Another softer much kinder voice is then heard
"Shall we leave the boy here to be found"
Godrick thought for a moment then stated boldly
"Don't be ridiculous Helga we must carry the boy home to lay him in his bed.....after all we are not the uncultured villains of Gotham are we?...nor are we the cowards of metropolis.,,we are The Founders....midway city's best and brightest.,.inform Rowena of the boys death and ask her to revoke the memories of any who saw us with him"
*the female figure draped in shadow nods and with that the two figures and the body disappeared without a trace*
"Helga...marvelous work you've done here...he looked at if he'd died peacefully in his sleep and smells pleasantly of peppermint"
Another softer much kinder voice is then heard
"Shall we leave the boy here to be found"
Godrick thought for a moment then stated boldly
"Don't be ridiculous Helga we must carry the boy home to lay him in his bed.....after all we are not the uncultured villains of Gotham are we?...nor are we the cowards of metropolis.,,we are The Founders....midway city's best and brightest.,.inform Rowena of the boys death and ask her to revoke the memories of any who saw us with him"
*the female figure draped in shadow nods and with that the two figures and the body disappeared without a trace*
Lisa was oblivious to the web ensnaring the city... But then, she was oblivious to a lot of more noticeable things.
For example, she was unaware of the chaos filling the police band. First responders were panicking over the missing officer. The lack of a crime scene. Not once did anyone suggest a hoax; this was Gotham. In a city plagued with nightmares and insanity, no one was ever that lucky.
She was also unaware of the alley cat. Some dirty gray stray... Or she was, until it jumped up onto some trash cans hissing and spitting. It startled her, and prompted her to pause.
"Cheshire? Is that you? What are you doing out this way? Are you lost? Well... You should come have tea with us..."
The cat hissed, and swiped at the air in her direction. It looked half starved. Almost emaciated.
"Oh. Well, there's no need to be rude. A simple no would suffice."
The cat arched it's back and fluffed its tail, keeping its fangs bared.
"Which way?" She looked up and down the alley. "Well... Does it matter? You don't know where you're going..."
The cat hissed one last time, then hopped back into the shadows.
The girl turned, and continued on her way.
At the scene behind her, several of the neighborhood residents were making emergency calls about the cop car in the road... And the screaming from earlier. Help might actually arrive.
But in a city like this, no one likes to get personally involved. So no one was there to notice the starving cat as it climbed into the car... Or to stop it.
For example, she was unaware of the chaos filling the police band. First responders were panicking over the missing officer. The lack of a crime scene. Not once did anyone suggest a hoax; this was Gotham. In a city plagued with nightmares and insanity, no one was ever that lucky.
She was also unaware of the alley cat. Some dirty gray stray... Or she was, until it jumped up onto some trash cans hissing and spitting. It startled her, and prompted her to pause.
"Cheshire? Is that you? What are you doing out this way? Are you lost? Well... You should come have tea with us..."
The cat hissed, and swiped at the air in her direction. It looked half starved. Almost emaciated.
"Oh. Well, there's no need to be rude. A simple no would suffice."
The cat arched it's back and fluffed its tail, keeping its fangs bared.
"Which way?" She looked up and down the alley. "Well... Does it matter? You don't know where you're going..."
The cat hissed one last time, then hopped back into the shadows.
The girl turned, and continued on her way.
At the scene behind her, several of the neighborhood residents were making emergency calls about the cop car in the road... And the screaming from earlier. Help might actually arrive.
But in a city like this, no one likes to get personally involved. So no one was there to notice the starving cat as it climbed into the car... Or to stop it.
Phantom took out the radio again and listened to the chatter of the police as Weaver worked. The officers were in a state of disarray while responding to the brutal attack that took place moments ago. He heard frequent questions about the location of the call, among the other concerned ramblings.
"1500 block, 38th Street." he mumbled to himself as one of the officers recited the address. He looked up to Weaver, who was still working to pinpoint the location of the incident. He knew better than to interrupt her while she was working, however, and opted to wait until she was finished before sharing his new information with her.
"1500 block, 38th Street." he mumbled to himself as one of the officers recited the address. He looked up to Weaver, who was still working to pinpoint the location of the incident. He knew better than to interrupt her while she was working, however, and opted to wait until she was finished before sharing his new information with her.
This location technique was a difficult one.
It is impossible to pull this off without reaching master level in the art of string. Since it requires the utmost concentration, the user must also perfect their mental skills. Truly a difficult task, but an invaluable one. Such skills can be used to even track down a near-death officer that would normally have not been found for a long time, which is exactly what happened.
Mimi snapped back to reality, and grinned. She released the strings everywhere else but where she had found the location, and attached that specific string to her pinkie, as she planned on following it. She swung back down into the warehouse and approached Phantom.
"Hey, I found it. I know, I know, I'm amazing."
It is impossible to pull this off without reaching master level in the art of string. Since it requires the utmost concentration, the user must also perfect their mental skills. Truly a difficult task, but an invaluable one. Such skills can be used to even track down a near-death officer that would normally have not been found for a long time, which is exactly what happened.
Mimi snapped back to reality, and grinned. She released the strings everywhere else but where she had found the location, and attached that specific string to her pinkie, as she planned on following it. She swung back down into the warehouse and approached Phantom.
"Hey, I found it. I know, I know, I'm amazing."
Appearing in a home in the suburbs of Gotham upon his bed seems to be laying the cold soft body of the son of the houses owner. Between his silky soft hands is a flower with for soft blue petals and a soft green stem...seemingly a scene out of a gothic novel. He clutches this odd flower to his chest as yes it is obvious he is dead but no marks of harm are to be seen, upon his face is the peaceful grace of a smile and closed eyes almost as if he is sleeping.
Not far away a young woman wearing a dress of the simular color to the flower is watching through the window from the shadows. She sighs before brushing a lock of her raven hair away and out of her crystalline bright blue eyes and turns away to begin walking away, not one to waste her gifts on things her fellow founders encouraged she made the choice to walk to the docs where she waited for a boat to lead her across the waters to her home in midway city.
Not far away a young woman wearing a dress of the simular color to the flower is watching through the window from the shadows. She sighs before brushing a lock of her raven hair away and out of her crystalline bright blue eyes and turns away to begin walking away, not one to waste her gifts on things her fellow founders encouraged she made the choice to walk to the docs where she waited for a boat to lead her across the waters to her home in midway city.
Having come out the other side of the alley, Lisa had opted to stick to the road as she made her way still further from the scene.
It was night, in a mostly residential neighborhood. The few people that were out chose to avoid her. There's an innate ability that people have... One that warns of danger... Hints at the things off in the inner workings of other people.
This... Did not require that sense. She was skipping down the street, the hard soles of her shoes tapping on the pavement... The noise echoing softly off the buildings. She was wearing a dress from another century. She was dirty, and covered in what might have been blood. The night made the stains look black; the soft glow of the street light doing little to clarify it.
A couple returning from a date stopped and watched her pass. They lived here. They new the risks... A little girl with a menacing collar... And a policeman's hat did not beg for intervention.
Another door way, some friends about to leave after pre-gaming for a night of bar crawling. Even in their alcohol addled brains did they recognize the warning signs... One swore, and they all quickly scurried back into the safety of the apartment building.
She paused, and spun. Arms up in the air... Seemingly lost in elation at the wonders surrounding her... Even if they were just creations of her of fragmented mind. And just as suddenly she froze, staring at the hat dangling from her outstretched hand...
She turned it slowly, studying it, as if seeing it for the first time. Her voice was soft, a whisper to herself, "I wonder how many miles I've fallen by this time...?"
Her empty hand slid into the single large pocket of her pinafore. She pulled it back out holding a small cake. Partially smashed, partially eaten... 'Eat Me' still just visible in the frosting.
She brought it to her mouth, took a bite.
It was night, in a mostly residential neighborhood. The few people that were out chose to avoid her. There's an innate ability that people have... One that warns of danger... Hints at the things off in the inner workings of other people.
This... Did not require that sense. She was skipping down the street, the hard soles of her shoes tapping on the pavement... The noise echoing softly off the buildings. She was wearing a dress from another century. She was dirty, and covered in what might have been blood. The night made the stains look black; the soft glow of the street light doing little to clarify it.
A couple returning from a date stopped and watched her pass. They lived here. They new the risks... A little girl with a menacing collar... And a policeman's hat did not beg for intervention.
Another door way, some friends about to leave after pre-gaming for a night of bar crawling. Even in their alcohol addled brains did they recognize the warning signs... One swore, and they all quickly scurried back into the safety of the apartment building.
She paused, and spun. Arms up in the air... Seemingly lost in elation at the wonders surrounding her... Even if they were just creations of her of fragmented mind. And just as suddenly she froze, staring at the hat dangling from her outstretched hand...
She turned it slowly, studying it, as if seeing it for the first time. Her voice was soft, a whisper to herself, "I wonder how many miles I've fallen by this time...?"
Her empty hand slid into the single large pocket of her pinafore. She pulled it back out holding a small cake. Partially smashed, partially eaten... 'Eat Me' still just visible in the frosting.
She brought it to her mouth, took a bite.
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