Grady Murtaugh aka Corvus
It was with reluctance that Grady agreed to the private jet. He made arrangements for a suite of rooms for the three of them and with an extra room just in case. There was a rental car waiting at the airport, a largish Mercedes, black, unlikely to stick out much in Atlantic city. He had packed for several days, in a style that seemed well to do casual. He didn't wear these often.
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He carried his magnificent cane, carved and engraved and inlaid by Lugh himself as a gift. He had a matching set of boots and belt also decorated by pure silver thread. He kept himself together mostly by concentrating on being Grady and not being Corvus. He wanted very much to burst, to tear the place down and rip Edward Nygma limb from limb.
Deeper down, he wanted also to know why Ozcorp's people.. Madam Dillard was there. Nygma would know. Since his second mission out of three, the Gotham riots he had been plagued by doubt. Nygma had helped put it there. This was in a way a very personal demon for him. He had left a very detailed message for his friend, the young woman who had first joined his company and helped further trained him in martial arts. So she might join him here. She too had an axe to grind with Riddler.
He sent pictures to Stephanie and Lincoln of all the people who had worked with Riddler at the riot. It seemed likely that some of them might be here. He must not forget Arcade, in some ways far more dangerous with his murderous little games. He got to the room, sending a message to Raylene.
{{ "
We are here, in a suite. It will be nice to see you again. "}}
For a moment he stared at Alfred's communicator, he sighed deeply and ignored it for now. He sent another message to Doll.
{{ "In Atlantic city for self therapy, hope you are well, love Grady"}}
@York @Michale CS @LuckycoolHawk9