GOTHAM IC

[thatguyinthestore]

Located in the state of New Jersey, Gotham City is a city founded by honest men and women, but overtime has turned into a city overridden with crime and corruption. Scum. Muggings on every street corner, murder in the streets, and the GCPD is too corrupt to even bat an eye.

 

[Ringmaster]

The scars continued to itch, long after.

They were a constant annoyance, drawn over his right eye. Not enough to blind, but enough to leave a tell-tale mark and infuriate him every time he looked in a mirror. Every night, since assigned to this rotting corpse of old buildings and shadows, they itched and when he closed his eyes, he saw only blood. Her's and his rivals, mingled even in death as they had been in life. It angered him beyond measure. To the point that since arriving, he had been silent save when needed or when there was little choice. He did not interact socially with anyone, he spent more time training then the rest and moreover....He knew what this exile was. This...Choice to drive him to what was the asshole of America.

Gotham City was a dead end. Its branch of the Foot Clan were little more than glorified thugs, led by a self-important toady. Its members, unused to the old ways and trusting to guns and toys of the like that every thug had. If there was a role the Foot Clan had here? It was to bend the knee to every other major crime lord. The Falcone family, Mooney at her club, and it angered him more beyond what he already was. But....Such was the way for now.

And with a grimace as he drove with a member of the Foot(barely worthy to lick his boots clean), he turned in his seat and without further ceremony, killed their passenger.

Two shots in the head, to ensure the death. With bullets from a gun, in a city so corrupt that you could buy them off a cop.

One bright spot at least as after dumping the body in the bay and retrieving their pay for the job, Oroku Saki headed off to fit in extra training when he was stopped.

"Whoa, new guy. You clean the seats. Your mess after all."

He chucked the rag in his face, Shredder catching it and not saying a word as the water flicked his cheek. He wiped it from his side and glared after the little man with his delusions as he squeezed the rag.

But he cleaned the seats nonetheless.

Welcome to Gotham City, Oroku Saki.

Someday to be known....

As the Shredder.

@thatguyinthestore​

 

[C.T.]

It pierced through the sky like thunder, odd for such clear weather. The sharp, resounding bang of the explosion engulfing the large building masked the sound of her finger gun aimed right at it with an accompanying "Bang." As the sense of sound began to slowly return to those poor civilians just unlucky enough to be close by, the echoes of giddy laughter rang out in every direction. This was what it truly meant, to be a criminal. Not to rob banks to become wealthier. Not being stuck in endless power plays amongst the elite of the underworld. Not under the table drug deals or behind closed doors human trafficking.

Just...spreading a little excitement into the dull, dull, dull lives of the sheep that call themselves people. Work, sleep, eat, blah blah blah. Where was the fun in that? The thrill that comes only from spontaneous chaos. The enjoyment that comes from watching people on fire flailing about, screaming at the top of their lungs as they try to escape what was formerly a perfectly functional apartment building...as she was right now, looking over her work.

In those last moments before death takes them...they are more alive than ever. Every nerve and muscle stimulated at once...bliss.

"When you see 'em, tell yer gods that Jinx sent ya!"

​

 

[thatguyinthestore]

The scars continued to itch, long after.

They were a constant annoyance, drawn over his right eye. Not enough to blind, but enough to leave a tell-tale mark and infuriate him every time he looked in a mirror. Every night, since assigned to this rotting corpse of old buildings and shadows, they itched and when he closed his eyes, he saw only blood. Her's and his rivals, mingled even in death as they had been in life. It angered him beyond measure. To the point that since arriving, he had been silent save when needed or when there was little choice. He did not interact socially with anyone, he spent more time training then the rest and moreover....He knew what this exile was. This...Choice to drive him to what was the asshole of America.

Gotham City was a dead end. Its branch of the Foot Clan were little more than glorified thugs, led by a self-important toady. Its members, unused to the old ways and trusting to guns and toys of the like that every thug had. If there was a role the Foot Clan had here? It was to bend the knee to every other major crime lord. The Falcone family, Mooney at her club, and it angered him more beyond what he already was. But....Such was the way for now.

And with a grimace as he drove with a member of the Foot(barely worthy to lick his boots clean), he turned in his seat and without further ceremony, killed their passenger.

Two shots in the head, to ensure the death. With bullets from a gun, in a city so corrupt that you could buy them off a cop.

One bright spot at least as after dumping the body in the bay and retrieving their pay for the job, Oroku Saki headed off to fit in extra training when he was stopped.

"Whoa, new guy. You clean the seats. Your mess after all."

He chucked the rag in his face, Shredder catching it and not saying a word as the water flicked his cheek. He wiped it from his side and glared after the little man with his delusions as he squeezed the rag.

But he cleaned the seats nonetheless.

Welcome to Gotham City, Oroku Saki.

Someday to be known....

As the Shredder.

@thatguyinthestore​

Soon a limo pulled up to Oroku's location and stopped next to him as he was still cleaning now blood stained seats. The driver soon exited the limo and opened the main door, and out stepped none other than Black Mask along with several men holding machine gus, all wearing black masks of course.

"Mr. Oruku. I was wondering when you'd show up. Please, come with me so we can talk in a more.... shall we say... 'private' location." The man said in a calm, almost nonchalant manner. Without looking, Sionis snapped his fingers and the driver immediately opened the door to the limo.

Assuming that he entered, the limo door would close before they drove to the location of one of Black Mask's many offices.

Black Mask's Office

The limo soon arrived at a rather normal looking office building with the label of "Sionis Industries" on top of the building. Roman entered the building and headed straight into his office, only leaving one guy with him just in case things went ugly. Black Mask soon sat in his chair and motioned towards the chair across from him, obviously telling the man to sit.

"I know who you are, Mr. Oruku. No one steps foot in this city that I don't know about." Sionis said, snapping his fingers. The thug beside him nodded before tugging out a file and tossing it across the desk. "That particular file contains everything about your life. From when you worked with the Foot Clan to now. And I must say, I'm very impressed. A man with your, shall we say, 'talents' could really benefit my organization. Basically what I'm saying is..."

@Ringmaster​

 

[C.T.]

Gotham. The city whose foundations are built on bodies. To say this place is a hive of crime is like declaring water is wet. The whole place reeked of it, the stink. Like a sewer shitstain polluting the air itself, the damn scent that lingered in his nose. This is the right place. All the lowlife, maggot piece of shits that think they run this town. The thieves, the muggers, the rapists, and the murderers. Every single one of them had a morgue spot reserved, far as he was concerned. Let those bastards feel scared just from walking down the street, for a change of pace. As good a goal as any.

And the dozen or so corpses littering the ground around him stood as a sign of his commitment. Nobody big yet, but he'd work his way up from the small-timers. Frank strode for the exit, casually reloading his weapon and departing.

Enter the Punisher.​

 

[Ringmaster]

Soon a limo pulled up to Oroku's location and stopped next to him as he was still cleaning now blood stained seats. The driver soon exited the limo and opened the main door, and out stepped none other than Black Mask along with several men holding machine gus, all wearing black masks of course.

"Mr. Oruku. I was wondering when you'd show up. Please, come with me so we can talk in a more.... shall we say... 'private' location." The man said in a calm, almost nonchalant manner. Without looking, Sionis snapped his fingers and the driver immediately opened the door to the limo.

Assuming that he entered, the limo door would close before they drove to the location of one of Black Mask's many offices.

Black Mask's Office

The limo soon arrived at a rather normal looking office building with the label of "Sionis Industries" on top of the building. Roman entered the building and headed straight into his office, only leaving one guy with him just in case things went ugly. Black Mask soon sat in his chair and motioned towards the chair across from him, obviously telling the man to sit.

"I know who you are, Mr. Oruku. No one steps foot in this city that I don't know about." Sionis said, snapping his fingers. The thug beside him nodded before tugging out a file and tossing it across the desk. "That particular file contains everything about your life. From when you worked with the Foot Clan to now. And I must say, I'm very impressed. A man with your, shall we say, 'talents' could really benefit my organization. Basically what I'm saying is..."

@Ringmaster​

Oroku Saki.... Ex-Chunin. Currently Genin once more. Playing ward to some Yakuza family brat, who dismissed the old ways and saw the best position as one in the middle of everyone. Seated at Black Masks table, he considered carefully the idea while tapping his fingers on the table. He had no gun....The only weapons he had on him was a few shuriken in the sleeves and....The signature weapon he had been known for, among the Clan. Also in his sleeve.

It was all he needed really, in a room like this and he continued that drumming pattern in quiet contemplation of the offer. A moment later, he rose to his feet and moved around to get closer to Sionis.

"Your offer...Is appreciated. But if you have my file, you would know my honor could not accept. The Clan in Gotham may be...Weak. Cowardly. Nevertheless, my oyassan's has spoken. I cannot leave the Clan, without harming my family name as it is. So...With true regret, I must decline as of now." He placed his fist into an open palm, doing a small bow with his eyes on the mask.

"However...I am open to the idea of freelance missions, so long as they do not interfere with my duties."

@thatguyinthestore​

 

[Gands]

John Raindancer -. Pumonca

Late at night I arrived in town .Dark moon, cool weather. If he were suspicious it was a bad omen, but not the worst. It has now been 18 months since he finished his twenty years in the armed services. The last twelve in the Seals.

He had been visiting people from his twenty that means something to him. His last stop was New York. But, Frank Castle's house was burned to the ground. So. From NYC, he sent a written letter with a couple of pictures to Alfred P. who seemed to be a ...manservant .. to a wealthy young playboy. Wow, from the top of British military field guys, to manservant..well, you do what you can to make a living right ?

He had set himself up as a professional bodyguard and or private investigator in. Several states in the Northeast. Training from naval intelligence and his beloved Seal unit.

He had tracked, literally by scent, the kidnappers of a wealthy young woman to this building. He slipped inside with his cougar form. Slipping back out of it, with only his two blessed knives and his clothing that was ritually blessed as well.

One man was asleep at the TV. A blow to the back of the head made sure he'd be quiet. The other surprised me coming out of the bathroom. Had to use knives on him, just in case there were more. I retrieved the girl and got her out. No muss...no fuss.just the way my client wanted it.

We made the exchange and quietly went our separate ways. I ended up in a mid level hotel between mid town and the narrows. The Jeep is at a parking garage a block away.

I stand out on the balcony for a while watching the sunrise. Beautiful.

@thatguyinthestore

 

[thatguyinthestore]

Oroku Saki.... Ex-Chunin. Currently Genin once more. Playing ward to some Yakuza family brat, who dismissed the old ways and saw the best position as one in the middle of everyone. Seated at Black Masks table, he considered carefully the idea while tapping his fingers on the table. He had no gun....The only weapons he had on him was a few shuriken in the sleeves and....The signature weapon he had been known for, among the Clan. Also in his sleeve.

It was all he needed really, in a room like this and he continued that drumming pattern in quiet contemplation of the offer. A moment later, he rose to his feet and moved around to get closer to Sionis.

"Your offer...Is appreciated. But if you have my file, you would know my honor could not accept. The Clan in Gotham may be...Weak. Cowardly. Nevertheless, my oyassan's has spoken. I cannot leave the Clan, without harming my family name as it is. So...With true regret, I must decline as of now." He placed his fist into an open palm, doing a small bow with his eyes on the mask.

"However...I am open to the idea of freelance missions, so long as they do not interfere with my duties."

@thatguyinthestore​

This man was respectful. Something most of the gangsters in Gotham had lost. And Sionis, well, he liked that from a man. Normally when someone declined an offer from Sionis, mere seconds later they would either be forced to join up with him or he would just have his men put a couple of bullets in their head and dump the body in the river.

But not this time. No, instead this time Roman simply nodded as the man declined the offer.

"Very well. I understand your reasoning behind your decision. Of course I will be in contact about these freelance missions when something comes up. And if there's one thing I am, it's a man of my word. So I can guarantee that said missions will not interfere with your Foot Clan operations in the slightest." He said. As the Shredder was about to head out, Black Mask looked to him once more. "Oh and I already have a patch set up for you and this "Foot Clan" in the Narrows. This way you and your men can operate in Gotham without interfering with my own operations. Think of it as..... a housewarming present." He said before smiling behind the mask and nodding yet again before the man left.

@Ringmaster

 

[Sir Salty]

[BCOLOR=transparent]September 26, 2005 - 5:30 am, Sky High Heights Apartments[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Did it seem weird to fret over what to where, he wondered to himself, looking outside. Autumn was always one of those weird seasons, especially in late September. Where the daytime, it was still bright and warm. Even when the smog clouds settled over Gotham, like a sprinkle of doom. But effectively when the sun was gone, and the heat off the tarmac had evaporated into the air, the nights and early mornings were brisk, and chilly.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He had a habit of being the person in the office who always seemed to get cold. While those people who seemed to attract heat were always hot, effectively leaving the air conditioning on for too long. Still his wardrobe felt as drab as his personality did at times. He was boring. Chose safety over risk. Not because he was afraid of consequences.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Clearly in the past he acted upon a thought without thinking of the consequences. Simply he wished he had more color. A splash of red here and there or blue, blue was a nice color. Not too drastic. He opted for one of his gray sweaters and grabbed his black knitted shawl. He felt the physical body of another rubbed across his legs.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He looked down to see a painted, calico cat greeting him in the morning. He could have went for a more dull cat. A white one or a black one, but no he couldn't get rid of her. Pixel was still loveable as she was when she was a kitten, and while he had been personally mocked for her name, he didn't really care.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Hungry," he responded to her, while also petting her behind her ears. She responded with a Meow, that sounded near identical to a "feed me human, you are my affection slave"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]She followed him into the kitchen. Morning rituals, habits turned into creatures. That you rinsed and repeated the cycle over and over again because they brought small comforts to your life. Make coffee, while that was going get the cat's food together in her bowl, take out the travel mug, make sure he had his keys, grab some water, take his medication.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Creature comforts that made any individual feel a single bit of certainty in the world. Because in a world of random chance, there was a subconscious part of themselves that they wanted to deny that told them all "in reality you aren't special".[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]But that reality put fear into the minds of others. Humans were so goal orientated. They do just about anything if they could feel a bit of certain specialty in the universe. People were afraid of going mad. And there was a notion that if you did not seek human things, you'd go mad. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Pouring the coffee into the travel mug, he stared at Pixel. Who closed her eyes and licked her lips, while she ate slowly. Her little legs all, but hidden underneath a hood of fur.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Take care of the house and don't open the door for strangers," he told her. While all she did was meow at him. Like she understood. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]That was good though. That they understood each other. Morning creatures like opening the door, making sure the spare key under his welcoming mat was still there. He taped it down with some clear tape, and had stuck a needle or two around it. So anyone who didn't know where the needles would effectively get pricked. Security another comfort. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]While his apartment couldn't have been more dull, only as much furniture as he needed. Only as many cups as he needed. The outside world was nowhere near as dull. A splash of color here and there. Dark alleyways lit up by cigarettes in the distance. Shady deals, he tried to ignore. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]And the bus lights brightened up the streets. He was glad he had brought his wool trench coat. Because even with it, he managed to feel a chill of the weather through his sleeves. He'd take the bus to the firm, as he did every day. Comforts were rituals. Rinse, repeat, the same cynical cycle.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]**[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]

[/BCOLOR]
​

[BCOLOR=transparent]The smell of petrol, carbon emissions, and despair. All the familiar smells that put a smile on his face. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Brightens up your morning doesn't it, ha" a man lying on the concrete.He picked up the man by his hair and shook the head around.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Why yes it does," he changed the tone of his voice to puppet the man's stiff mouth. Dropping the man's head back into the cement.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Ha ha, ha"[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]**[/BCOLOR]
​

[BCOLOR=transparent]September 26, 2005 - 8:00 am, Lecter's Firm [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Patient #1: [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Simpson Wright[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Age: 32 [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Marital Issues -eyes roll-[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Simpson always had the issue of over explaining things. We wouldn't always go over 15 minutes after the session was suppose to end, if he could shut up. It was simply he was afraid of rejection and intimacy. None of his complaints were really about his wife. They were actually complaints he was making about himself, projecting it onto someone else's minor problems. Still we begin the session, the first client of my day and the least interesting of the bunch. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"How was your commute?" Lukas asked with mild interest. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Good, the traffic was bullshit, like always, but I got here in one piece," Simpson smiled. He was likeable and charismatic on the surface. Like many of the people who were his clients. Sometimes Lukas wondered if this was a cheap joke on his expense to have him sit through people clearly too irresponsible to admit they were horrible people.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"That's good," Lukas replies flatly again. Though Simpson always took this as his normal behavior. While to the outside viewer it may come off as Lukas disinterested, Simpson always found Lukas kind of weird and stiff. Like a wooden doll pretending to be a human being. Going through the motions. But then again, it actually suited Simpson's personality. Someone who didn't make him feel any which way about his own humanity, because he was the type to always want to be in the right.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]It didn't matter what Lukas really thought. He just wanted to throw money at someone to air his grievances.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"You?" Simpson asked, which was out of character for him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"What?" Lukas asked.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"How was your commute?" Simpson asked.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]And here Lukas had thought he had already cracked open, solving the mystery of Simpson's core. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I take the bus, thankfully uninteresting," Lukas responded with a smile, "Why do you ask?"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent] Simpson shrugged. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Don't really know," Simpson replied, "Just asked."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Well, thank you," Lukas responded.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Simpson didn't seem to care. He didn't really want to ask. Lukas could read it on his face, but he was use to not mentioning the things that were left unsaid. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"My wife, asked for a divorce," Simpson fessed up, "I mean she's threatened about it before. And we got this close." he pinched his pointer finger and thumb together, "But never this close. She gave me the paperwork Friday. And hasn't been home since then. She went to her sisters."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"That sounds difficult, well I'm sorry for you," Lukas responded, his natural empathy came out just a little, though it did come off a little dry. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"No it's okay, there was always problems, my advice, don't marry your highschool sweetheart straight out of school,"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Well that was wasted advice. He had never shared that intimate connection with someone before. Actually that was more like a sinking shipping of a topic. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Do you think that was the problem? Or do you think that perhaps you might have played a part?" Lukas asked to push Simpson.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"What are you implying?" Simpson sounded offended.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I was merely asking, while I'm here to have a discussion with you, it's also my job to push your point of view," Lukas responded, trying not to bite his lip, his upper teeth brushing across the skin of his bottom lip, but he drew them back, like putting the safety back on a gun.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]**[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]She was a fit, athletic, with copper hair. She would have normally asked the patient to give her a second while she was on the phone she had to given a sudden double look at the tall man standing before her desk. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]In a pinstripe black suit, with a worn black trench coat, and all though most of his face was shaded by a fedora, she noted the pallid look to his skin.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Excuse me sir, if you need the hospital I can direct you there," Penny said, the man had an unusual laugh. It was a twisted, warped chortle, that kind of creeped her out.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"It's sweet to see people taking care of each other today, guiding them to hospitals when they need. But I assure you I am perfectly healthy. I called about a week ago, I'm the 9 o'clock, Jim Moore," the man coughed out another laugh. It sounded to her like he was trying not to do so. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Penny turned to her computer screen. To look for Jim Moore. Her fingers sliding down on the screen.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Ah yes, Mr. Crane will be seeing you shortly he's finishing up with his other client," Penny responded with a smile.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Mr. Crane? I assure you I asked for Mr. Lecter," he responded.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Yes, sadly to get you in this Monday, Mr. Lecter made some arrangements, he had a more pressing client to deal with at 9 o'clock. If you like, I can fit you in where Mr. Lecter does have some free time," Penny began.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"No, no need. I will talk with this Mr. Crane. Besides, you've convinced me, with your very bright smile. You really seem to care for your job,"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Um," Penny was taken aback. The man's words while genuine, not a hint of sarcasm, unnerved her. Would Lukas be okay with a man like this in his office?[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]**[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]

[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]Patient #2: [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Jim Moore[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Age: Unspecified [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Notes: New to Town, Homesickness [?][/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]What was with the vagueness of Penny's note? Still the man who sat across from me was not the same men I normally get. Probably because I had overheard he had directly asked for Lecter to speak to. Lecter always got these sorts. Man had a strange color to his skin. Strange grin too. But he wouldn't show too much of himself under the hat. He's watching me though. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Writing a little naughty note, am I irresistible to your gaze, haahaha," Jim laughed, taking out a purple notebook, and one of those pens with what appeared to be smile icons as the design, "I'll take notes too." The man pretends to write, "Mommy the school teacher is eye candy."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Lukas blinks.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I'm lost," Lukas responds.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I'm just teasing you. You see I'm a comedian," Jim tells him. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"So, you're new to Gotham?" Lukas asked.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Jim's smile grows wider.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Well yes and no," Jim responds, "I use to live here once."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"And?" Lukas asked.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Oh let's not play around. You're not interested in that boring stuff. Now are you? You're not a very good liar. You liked me better when I was unpredictable, and I liked you better when I saw a little fire in your eyes,"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I'm not following," Lukas responded, perplexed by this man's behavior.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Yes you are, well you could follow, you just chose not to, haha. See people like you and me, we can sense each other, like dogs smell the ass of the other,"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"People like you and me?" Lukas asked, his bottom lip quivering as he try to resist biting it again.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"What is the difference between happiness and misery?" Jim asked.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"The actions people take," Lukas responded. Why did it feel like he was the one being analyzed right now? Probably because he could not read this man. And it wasn't because this man was hidden. But because the man was right. They were the same breed of person. The difference was this man was probably more cunning. At least Lukas felt that. That this man was probably more like Lecter.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Bzzzzt! Wrong," Jim paused, "I can see the little fireworks in your mind. Haha. You know there is no difference between them. People believe the path to misery is a different path than the path to happiness. But the path to misery is the same path to happiness and vice versa. So you see, I have a dilemma."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"What's the dilemma?" Lukas asked.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Jim clapped.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"There you go, a little more enthusiasm and interest, I do like to see a smile in a person's eyes," Jim paused for a second before clearing his throat, "Right now I am a path to misery. Now ask me, why is that?" Jim looked at him. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Why is that?" Lukas asked.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Because I am bored. Remember how I told you I was a comedian. I am a comedian with no stage. A comedian with no script, no screenplay to write. No plan, no rhyme, no reason," he gave a small chuckle under his breath, "You see I laugh to cope with my misery. But I am walking the same path to look for happiness. But right now, my life has no joke, and has no punchline. I am a Shakespeare play with all the tragedy, but no comedy."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I can direct you to some comedy clubs," Lukas replied. Jim merely began to laugh. No cackle was a better word to describe.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"How long have you been on your road to misery?" Jim asked after clearing his throat. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I'm neither miserable nor happy, I'm afraid," Lukas responded.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Jim just smiles.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Is this true? Are you lying or do you really mean that? It's the dead far off expression in your eyes. Is it the medication? Did they slap you with a funny label and say to you, this will fix all your problems? Isn't that how we cure insanity? But don't you find insanity useful?"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"How is insanity useful?"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"It's a defense mechanism, isn't it. People say when someone's insane their mind has broken. But I don't necessarily see the mind broken. I think, when you take the wrong turn from a path of misery to a path of tragedy, that's when your mind fractures. When you try to tightrope walk the fine line between normalcy and insanity, over the flames of hell itself. Trying to not be what you are is more insane, than allowing your mind to be naturally what it is,"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"And you think insanity is natural?"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"If it is made or born, yes. Or why else would humans have it?"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I'm not sure Jim I can help you," Lukas responded, while enthralled in this man's point of view, wasn't it wrong to dive down this rabbit hole? [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"You're not sure you can help me?" Jim asked, "No, no. You've helped me a great deal. You've brought back my smile. You've brighten up my day. I am very excited to continue our conversations. You're excited too I can see it in your little eyes."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I am glad to have at least done that," Lukas responded.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"See, that was a genuine response from you. So, what do you say Doctor Crane, would you like to bring a little more of my smile back? I'm thinking once a week every Monday?"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Jim was so eager, which took Lukas aback. Who was this man? He was a dangerous cocktail of unpredictable behaviors, but there was something about his viewpoint of the world that intrigued him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"That's fine, I'll have Penny set it up," Lukas responded.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The man cackled, and jumped off his seat in delight, clapping.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Jolly good. Here I thought I would find myself a snoring bore in Gotham, but you, you peaked my interest," Jim laughs, walking towards the door as Lukas gets up to escort him out and talk to Penny about his 9 o'clock block. Jim puts a hand on his notes.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Do try to keep your naughty notes, it's a trait I admire," Jim tells him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I," Lukas felt a little embarrassed to have someone point it out. But there was this brief glimmer of interest in his heart. Like a little fire. Perhaps, he'd get Dr. Lecter's view on Jim Moore as well. It help him gain a little perspective. [/BCOLOR]

 

[Michale CS]

"That will be $12.50. Do you need a consultation, sir?"
"No. I'm not an idiot. I've been taking these meds for two years." The middle-aged man replied.
"I apologize sir, we have to ask everyone." Isley replied, very carefully burying the sentiment in her body that this man, in fact, was an idiot, if he had to continue on this regimen of pills after two years. Type II Diabetes was treatable with diet and exercise if caught early enough, and this man chose to ignore both of them, by the look of his obese body.
"Yeah, well..." He didn't have a reply as he slid his card to pay for the purchase. "Wait... can I add something else to the transaction?"
Pamela hit the cancel button that rejected the payment before it went through. "Certainly."
Thump. A Toblerlone was grabbed from the nearby shelf and set down on the counter. Rather than do the courteous thing and warn him about the danger of ingesting pure sugar while teetering on the brink between medicine and insulin injections for diabetes, she simply smiled, and the smile was warm and friendly this time. This human would kill himself soon enough.
"Hey, thanks." He commented, and smiled himself. "I can tell when someone has a real smile. And yours is."
"You're quite welcome, sir."

Thankfully, the day went swiftly, and Dr. Pamela Isley was back home, with her children. Well, she considered them her children. There were several dozen plants in this last batch, and an underwater variety "Dinnertime, lovelies!" This time, fish was on the menu. For her plants. She'd dropped by the pet store on the way home and purchased a dozen tiny fish, fresh water variety. She dumped the plastic bag full of them into the aquarium, and watched as they were slowly grabbed and swallowed by her creations.

She sighed in happiness at the progress. Not only did they have the maws of a Venus Fly Trap, they had special branches with thorns on the end that worked very much like claws. This wasn't possible yet for her above ground varieties - the bouyancy of the water made it so that the plants could grow in this way without the clawed 'arms' becoming too heavy for the main stem of the plant.

"Perhaps if I went with a tree or a bush... Boxwood, perhaps?" Pamela mused as she settled in to watch television - The National Geographic Channel. It reminded her that not all humans were toxic to plant life. And days like these?

She needed the reminder.

@thatguyinthestore

 

[thatguyinthestore]

John Raindancer -. Pumonca

Late at night I arrived in town .Dark moon, cool weather. If he were suspicious it was a bad omen, but not the worst. It has now been 18 months since he finished his twenty years in the armed services. The last twelve in the Seals.

He had been visiting people from his twenty that means something to him. His last stop was New York. But, Frank Castle's house was burned to the ground. So. From NYC, he sent a written letter with a couple of pictures to Alfred P. who seemed to be a ...manservant .. to a wealthy young playboy. Wow, from the top of British military field guys, to manservant..well, you do what you can to make a living right ?

He had set himself up as a professional bodyguard and or private investigator in. Several states in the Northeast. Training from naval intelligence and his beloved Seal unit.

He had tracked, literally by scent, the kidnappers of a wealthy young woman to this building. He slipped inside with his cougar form. Slipping back out of it, with only his two blessed knives and his clothing that was ritually blessed as well.

One man was asleep at the TV. A blow to the back of the head made sure he'd be quiet. The other surprised me coming out of the bathroom. Had to use knives on him, just in case there were more. I retrieved the girl and got her out. No muss...no fuss.just the way my client wanted it.

We made the exchange and quietly went our separate ways. I ended up in a mid level hotel between mid town and the narrows. The Jeep is at a parking garage a block away.

I stand out on the balcony for a while watching the sunrise. Beautiful.

@thatguyinthestore

A small black cab would soon pull up to the motel which Raindancer was staying at. And who stepped out other than Alfred Pennyworth himself?

"Pardon me, sir. You wouldn't happen to know a John Raindancer, would you?" Alfred asked in a joking manner as he looked up at Raindancer.

@Gands
​

 

[Gands]

John Raindancer - Pumonca


"Alfred! Incredible timing! I was just heading to get a late night meal, please come with me! "

The two retired soldiers gave each other a hug. "You look fantastic"

When I contacted your sister, she didn't have a lot to say about your situation here, I barely managed to get her to say what city.

@thatguyinthestore

 

[thatguyinthestore]

John Raindancer - Pumonca


"Alfred! Incredible timing! I was just heading to get a late night meal, please come with me! "

The two retired soldiers gave each other a hug. "You look fantastic"

When I contacted your sister, she didn't have a lot to say about your situation here, I barely managed to get her to say what city.

@thatguyinthestore

Alfred hugged the man and pat him on the back before letting out a chuckle and walking with his former comrade.

"Yeah, well that's me dear old sister for ya. Do anything to keep me out of harms way, she will. How've you been, mate?" Alfred asked, looking the man over.

@Gands

 

[Gands]

John Raindancer - Pumonca

" Got out of the service over a year back, been wanderin around mostly. Got myself licensed up, P.I. and Professional bodyguard. Been lookin guys up that I might have owed something to, or maybe thought would still speak to me! " ( at this he chuckled a bit ) .

"How about yourself ? I heard your Dad passed, sorry to hear it !"

John would try and steer the two towards the Hotel café to get that snack he was looking for.

@thatguyinthestore

 

[Michale CS]

It was a day off. Dr. Pamela Isley always had to force herself not to just spend the day working with her plants, as she had seen the results of someone who was overworked.

So, she headed out downtown. Treating herself to a meal at the local steakhouse was first on the itinerary, which would be followed by a nice walk in Founder's Park, a small park near city hall.

Pamela settled down at Chops and ordered a steak, medium rare, with a pasta salad and corn on the cob. She only ate for the pleasure of it, as the sun and wind sustained her. It might surprise some who knew Isley and what she was that she was still an omnivore, but she was aware that nature had a food chain and that she was on top of it - an apex predator among predators.

Still, she brought her tablet with her and was tooling around with formulae as she awaited her meal...

@ whomever

 

[Ringmaster]

This man was respectful. Something most of the gangsters in Gotham had lost. And Sionis, well, he liked that from a man. Normally when someone declined an offer from Sionis, mere seconds later they would either be forced to join up with him or he would just have his men put a couple of bullets in their head and dump the body in the river.

But not this time. No, instead this time Roman simply nodded as the man declined the offer.

"Very well. I understand your reasoning behind your decision. Of course I will be in contact about these freelance missions when something comes up. And if there's one thing I am, it's a man of my word. So I can guarantee that said missions will not interfere with your Foot Clan operations in the slightest." He said. As the Shredder was about to head out, Black Mask looked to him once more. "Oh and I already have a patch set up for you and this "Foot Clan" in the Narrows. This way you and your men can operate in Gotham without interfering with my own operations. Think of it as..... a housewarming present." He said before smiling behind the mask and nodding yet again before the man left.

@Ringmaster

He smiled and nodded politely enough.

Though when he left and took a cab, he finally allowed his face to shift into the scowl that had threatened his happier facade earlier, within the den of the Clan's enemy. Oh yes. Everyone until proven, was an enemy of the Clan and if this branch was even a quarter of the strength of the one in Japan, where he had made his home? He could have been running Gotham City into a holding of the Foot Clan. Instead, that idiot in charge here would no doubt accept Black Masks generous offer. And consequently, enable them to be in a place under the crime lords eye, twenty-four seven.

It was enough to make his scars itch, which furthered his dark mood.

-----

Hence his little wandering around, volunteering to collect the information that the current leader of the Gotham Branch then sold out to everyone else. An apartment building destroyed by some arsonist, a mass murder of gang members....The odd stuff, that built up into a larger picture. He texted it all forward and exhaled in frustration. This was a bad neighborhood- A few years or so back, some important people were killed in an alleyway, the victim of a crime. Their only son, the sole survivor. The theater was long since condemned, the area left alone....Still.....Saki glanced back and forth.

Ten minutes later, he had pried open the boards to a side door, breaking and entering the theater.

Anything was better then work.

​

 

[Sir Salty]

[BCOLOR=transparent]September 26, 2005 - 12:45 pm - On the Streets of Gotham[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]@Michale CS [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]She's always got him going somewhere doesn't she? He wasn't complaining though, Penny was nice, and she seemed to have a better grip on a city he should know like the back of his hand. But she ends up somehow sending him off somewhere he wouldn't have known existed. Today she asked him to pick up something for her at a sandwich shop that didn't do any deliveries. He wasn't too much into sandwiches, they were weird, odd cumbersome things.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He usually liked a granola bar here or there, some trail mix, and water. He also wasn't into meat. It looked weird. Made him sick to look at it when it was raw. Reminded him of things. [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]Blood on satin sheets[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]. [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]Unpleasant scents[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]. He didn't like the feel. Nor the touch. And lunch meat was always a nightmare to deal with it. It was always, does this cause cancer or does this not cause cancer?[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Did this make me a health nut by default he wondered? His phone went off, probably a text from Penny. She always had something to talk about as well. If he knew any better he was starting to get the picture she liked him. Though he was always generally unsure what he thought about her. Feelings were always a mix of flat and anxiety.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Crowds made him nervous. Maybe because Jim was right. When was the last time he thought about a patient? He felt himself smiling. He better get back to the office soon, he wasn't always allowed the luxury to go out, but when he did he liked the little walks Penny sent him on. Little Gotham adventures he called them.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Would these days of normalcy last? He wondered. Why did everything feel like a static pool of nothing? A comfortable bubble of forgetting and then remembering the unpleasant, only to repress it by forgetting again to make life comfortable. Little synchronicity like this. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Something about Jim stuck with him. Insanity was a buffer. Everyone was afraid of going crazy, it's why they had jobs like his. Because no one wanted to face the things they subconsciously fear. But they rather take the crazy road of tight roping on a very thin line.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent] Afraid of going too far on one side or the other. Too far on one side meant insanity. Too far on the other side meant things were too normal. Were they all shells of insanity then? Like snails, sheltering themselves in their shells. Where the free space between the body and the shell was merely fear, anxiety, and the void they tried to ignore.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Human beings seemed to work in a strange way. Actually he better answer Penny so she knew he knew he had a 1:30 pm block and that he was on his way. Reaching for his phone in the pocket of his wool trench coat, he lost grip of it. It, and a few coins scattered on the street. The phone sliding like a technological ice skater on cement, underneath the heels of a woman sitting in front of a steakhouse. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Looking through a tablet. She also had auburn hair or ginger. Sharp bone structures. At first he was concerned about interrupting her. He almost considered leaving the phone under her heel, pretending he hadn't dropped it. His change, his twenty, and a few other coins ,because he hadn't bothered to buy a more organized wallet , scattered on the cement.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He considered leaving them too. It would be rude to just grab the phone. It would be rude to interrupt her. He found himself unable to stop rubbing his bottom lip with his two front teeth, when he realized he drew them back. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Excuse me," he spoke so mildly sometimes he was afraid no one took him seriously, "I've managed to scatter my things around you." Taking a closer look she seemed familiar. He had seen her before, at the pharmacy.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Oh!" he sounded surprised, maybe embarrassed, "I, this is even worse. You're….from the pharmacy right. What a small and crazy world this is." there was a slight nervous laugh. Perhaps because he was not expecting to meet anyone he "knew".[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Knew wasn't as strong as say a friend or family. But knew enough where the impression he didn't want to give was some weirdo clutz. [/BCOLOR]

 

[Michale CS]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Excuse me," he spoke so mildly sometimes he was afraid no one took him seriously, "I've managed to scatter my things around you." Taking a closer look she seemed familiar. He had seen her before, at the pharmacy.[/BCOLOR]

She simply stared at him with a look that made things clear - she was annoyed and not concerned with him in the least.

"Oh!" he sounded surprised, maybe embarrassed, "I, this is even worse. You're….from the pharmacy right. What a small and crazy world this is." there was a slight nervous laugh. Perhaps because he was not expecting to meet anyone he "knew"

She stared at him for a moment, and just about when he was about to blurt something else out, Isley brought one hand our from under the table and set his phone on top of the table.

How had she managed to pick it up without ever breaking eye contact? That was a mystery.

Finally, she spoke. "Lexapro, 10 milligrams. Seroquel, 25 milligrams. No heart rhythm problems? Or shortness of breath?"

It was the best she could do. The name escaped her for the time being. Most of them were. Forgettable and mousy enough to be fed to a python, this one was.

Isley set aside her tablet, preparing herself for the fumbling apologies of a wholly unremarkable man. One had to keep up appearances.

@Clyde

 

[Sir Salty]

@Michale CS


[BCOLOR=transparent]He found himself biting his lower lip. A habit he tried to curb at every step, watching the objects first. The phone go onto the table. While he had gathered up the big change. He let the coins stay scattered. Like poorly fashion metal pieces of glitter ordaining the cement with unspecific metals of unspecific honors. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Lexapro, 10 milligrams. Seroquel, 25 milligrams. No heart rhythm problems? Or shortness of breath?"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Creature comforts like rituals he had to remind himself. Perhaps they were of the same people too. She seemed disinterested. He could have left. Thanked her and left. Though they both knew there was an expectation to be had. Didn't they? He could taste the iron from his bottom lip. He had bit too hard picking at the skin.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"No," he responded slowly grabbing his phone off the table. He was rarely curious about people. They were easy to pick apart. Always thinking the riddles in their head were complex puzzles that took years to solve. When a simple step could cause a chain reaction and cause the change they desired. He took a second. Withdrawing his teeth.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I have two questions," he told her. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Why play the game? Why chat about things neither of them cared about? How are you? Good. How are you? Also good. Seemed so boring. It wasn't what he cared about anyway. It was a game of words you played with other people. His whole entire job was lying to people that he cared about them as they were. No. He wanted to see the pieces. He wanted to see the puzzle pieces scatter like coins on the sidewalk.[/BCOLOR]

 

[Michale CS]

@Michale CS


[BCOLOR=transparent]He found himself biting his lower lip. A habit he tried to curb at every step, watching the objects first. The phone go onto the table. While he had gathered up the big change. He let the coins stay scattered. Like poorly fashion metal pieces of glitter ordaining the cement with unspecific metals of unspecific honors. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Lexapro, 10 milligrams. Seroquel, 25 milligrams. No heart rhythm problems? Or shortness of breath?"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Creature comforts like rituals he had to remind himself. Perhaps they were of the same people too. She seemed disinterested. He could have left. Thanked her and left. Though they both knew there was an expectation to be had. Didn't they? He could taste the iron from his bottom lip. He had bit too hard picking at the skin.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"No," he responded slowly grabbing his phone off the table. He was rarely curious about people. They were easy to pick apart. Always thinking the riddles in their head were complex puzzles that took years to solve. When a simple step could cause a chain reaction and cause the change they desired. He took a second. Withdrawing his teeth.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I have two questions," he told her. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Why play the game? Why chat about things neither of them cared about? How are you? Good. How are you? Also good. Seemed so boring. It wasn't what he cared about anyway. It was a game of words you played with other people. His whole entire job was lying to people that he cared about them as they were. No. He wanted to see the pieces. He wanted to see the puzzle pieces scatter like coins on the sidewalk.[/BCOLOR]

She nodded, drawing in and letting out a deep breath. Well, this was apparently happening. Lunch sitting across from a man on antipsychotics. Perhaps he'd be entertaining.

"Only two?" Dr. Isley responded, her head cocking with amusement and her green-painted lips - surely they had to be painted - curling slightly around the edges to match the rest of her body language.

She reached over and picked up her drink - a rum... something or other. It was creamy and smooth and that's what she enjoyed about it.

Isley spent a moment in an exaggerated slow sip from the beverage as she continued to watch him as if she were watching a child who had suddenly said look what I can do!

She however, spoke no more than those two words.

@Clyde